


The Lunden Cure

by katling



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M, Male Eivor, Pining, aftermath of the judgement, and erke has the good ale, and stowe is kind, by the way, eivor is morose, his heart is sore, hungover eivor, just as well too, or my headcanon of it anyway, otherwise this never would have happened, specifically the interrupted judgement, spoiler alert for everything after Suthsexe, stowe and erke make a move, the poor boy is not happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:33:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27674063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katling/pseuds/katling
Summary: In the wake of a judgement, Eivor needs to get away and clear his head. He pledges for Eurvicscire but his subconscious takes him to Lunden and two men he respects well.Note: there are spoilers for events after the siege of Portcestre in Suthsexe so be warned if you haven't done that yet.
Relationships: Erke Bodilsson/Eivor/Stowe, Erke Bodilsson/Stowe, pre-Erke Bodilsson/Eivor/Stowe
Comments: 4
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I disagreed with Sigurd during that judgement so Eivor did get the brunt of his anger (along with poor Holger). 
> 
> Also my headcanon for my Eivor (so obviously YMMV) is that he never believed a word Fulke said after her betrayal and thought she was a lunatic. So, he's genuinely afraid that she's driven Sigurd mad and implanted her delusions into his mind. (I have a sneaking suspicion where the game is taking us but _Eivor_ doesn't know that so he just thinks she's mad. All the members of the Order of the Ancients he's faced have just been ordinary - if extraordinarily corrupt - _people_ ).
> 
> Also, I was really pissed off that Eivor can't give money to Holger to help him out. I literally followed him to his house just to see if I could.

Eivor ignored the heavy feeling of Randvi’s eyes as he strode out of the longhouse in the direction of the stables. He didn’t turn and say anything or even wave goodbye. He didn’t want to know what kind of expression was on her face nor did he want to field any questions. He had no answers for her, nor for anyone else.

“Oh, hello, Eivor,” Rowan said with surprise when he strode into the stables. “Did you need anything?”

“A horse,” Eivor said shortly. “Mine can stay here. She’s travelled enough for now.”

Rowan opened his mouth, his eyes full of concern, then he took in the look on Eivor’s face and closed his mouth again. He gestured towards a dappled grey. “Take Cynbel.”

Eivor give him a short nod and grabbed his gear, throwing it onto the horse and mounting up. He held the horse in to a slow trot until he’d cleared the outskirts of the little village then he kicked it into a gallop, letting the wind blow his thoughts, his mood, everything, away, leaving it behind in Ravensthorpe.

He didn’t really pay much attention to where he was going, taking turns almost at random, and was surprised to find himself riding up to the great cesspool of Lundun. He snorted and shook his head, letting the horse slow to a walk as he wove his way through the people coming and going from the city. Once inside, he left the horse at the stable and headed further into the city, searching for what, he did not know.

Despite his efforts to just wander aimlessly, he soon found himself at the old Roman villa. He almost turned around but Stowe and Erke were sitting outside, clearly enjoying the evening with a tankard of ale and some food, and they’d already seen him.

“Eivor, it is good to see you, my friend,” Stowe said, rising to his feet with a smile. The smile faded and he frowned as Eivor got closer. “Come, sit down. You look like you need an ale more than either of us.”

“Speak for yourself,” Erke said but he still got up and fetched another tankard.

“Thank you,” Eivor said before draining the tankard in one go.

Erke laughed and refilled it, then refilled it again when Eivor drained it for a second time. Stowe watched all of this, concern growing on his face. Eivor didn’t see him meet Erke’s eyes and raise an eyebrow. Nor did he see Erke give a small quirk of his lips in reply. The two had known each other long enough to not need words to have a discussion.

“What troubles you, Eivor?” Stowe asked quietly as he moved to sit next to the norseman.

Eivor stared down into his refilled tankard. He didn’t quite know what to say. He wasn’t a man prone to giving confidences but then he found the words tumbling out of his mouth anyway. “Have you ever wanted something, worked for it, given everything you have to it and then had it...” 

He broke off and shook his head, his mood plummeting. He’d been teetering on the edge of this ever since Sigurd had walked away after that cruel judgement and now he fell off the ledge.

He didn’t see Stowe and Erke exchange another glance before Stowe said, “Is Sigurd not well?”

Eivor snorted and felt the prick of tears in his eyes. He blinked them back and shook his head. “Sigurd… I do not know what is wrong with him. He is not the brother I have known.”

“After all he has been through, surely that is to be expected?” Stowe said delicately.

Eivor frowned. “I expected him to be changed, yes. No man could lose half an arm, be tormented the way he was, and not be changed. But Sigurd…”

He couldn’t speak the words to describe Sigurd’s delusions of being a god. He wasn’t sure why, whether it was because they sounded so mad or because of his intense loyalty to his brother that lingered even now, in the wake of Sigurd’s apparent madness, in the wake of Sigurd’s angry words after he’d argued against Sigurd’s cruel judgement.

“I could not stay,” he finally said. “It is my home, yet I could not stay.” He snorted and drained half the tankard. “I should be heading for Eurvicscire.”

Stowe’s hand gripped his shoulder. “And you will. Tomorrow. Or the day after. Tonight, you will stay here. We have the room.”

“Aye,” Erke said, topping up Eivor’s tankard. “The beds aren’t fancy but they’re comfortable enough and free of fleas. What more can a man ask for?”

Eivor snorted and managed a small, wan smile. “True enough.”

“And until then, we drink!” Erke said, raising his own tankard and slamming it against Eivor’s. 

“Skal,” Eivor said before draining his tankard for a third time as Stowe watched them with wry amusement. He could already feel the buzz from the alcohol singing through him and he was willing to give into it. Maybe in the morning, his heart would not be so sore. In the meantime, he would let Erke fill his tankard and he would keep emptying it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning, Eivor faces his hangover and realises he might be pining for something he cannot have. Like he needed more trouble than he already has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was bitten by the bug to continue this and apparently Eivor is pining after these two fine men but trying to ignore it and deny it. What's the poor boy to do?

When Eivor woke the next morning, the quality of the light coming through the window told him it was somewhere past mid-morning, possibly even close to midday. His head was pounding and his mouth felt like it was full of sand and though he gave some thought to just closing his eyes and going back to sleep, he knew that he’d be far better off finding a water-barrel and soaking his head in it.

He rolled out of the bed and staggered out into the hallway of the Roman villa. He was in only trousers and his loose shirt but his armour, boots and weapons had been stacked neatly on a bench at the end of the bed, so he wasn’t concerned about that side of things. Not that he could actually remember going to bed. He knew Erke had spent the evening pouring ale into him and he guessed that Stowe and Erke must have subsequently poured him into bed.

Thankfully, the villa possessed a bathing room and he was pleased to see the required barrel of water in the corner. He didn’t hesitate to lean over and shove his head into the cold water, the shock clearing up the worst of his hangover, even if he did end up with a nose full of water.

He pulled his head out again and shook it, ignoring the water that dripped down onto his shirt as he ran a hand down his face. As he did, the memory of why he was in this particular situation flooded back and he rested both hands on the edges of the barrel and let his head hang down.

“I hope you’re not planning on drowning yourself in there.”

Eivor snorted at Stowe’s dry comment. “I gave it some thought.”

Stowe chuckled and Eivor heard his light footsteps cross the room before a warm hand rested on his shoulder. “Come, my friend. We have food ready and you could do with dousing whatever is left of the ale in your stomach.”

Eivor grumbled but let the Saxon guide him out of the bathing room and down to where Erke was lounging at a table laden with food. He all but fell into a seat at the table and watched as Stowe walked around to sit next to Erke, bumping his shoulder briefly against the other man’s. They were subtle in their affections, these two, but Eivor had eyes and he could see what truly lay between them. He’d admit to being envious but mostly he was just pleased that someone in this cursed land was happy.

He picked at the food on offer as Stowe and Erke kept up a quiet conversation, mostly familiar teasing of each other and general banter but occasionally they slipped in some genuine news of the goings on in Lunden and the surrounding areas. As the last of the hangover passed, Eivor felt the dark mood he’d tried so hard to outrun the previous day settle over him. He had not often been at odds with Sigurd and had disliked it every time it had happened. Though what had happened with that judgement, with Sigurd’s madness, went far beyond simply being at odds. He felt like he was losing his brother and he didn’t know how to stop it.

“Eivor?”

He looked up to find Stowe and Erke watching him with concern, Stowe’s open and obvious, Erke’s more reserved but plain enough in his eyes and as genuine as Stowe’s concern. Erke was leaning back in his chair in an impression of casualness but Eivor could tell he had a comforting hand on Stowe’s back. He felt like he was intruding.

“I…” He shook his head. “I should go. Eurvicscire awaits and I… I have imposed upon you enough.”

“No,” Stowe said hastily, his warm hand closing on Eivor’s wrist. He smiled faintly. “It is no imposition, Eivor. We are glad to have you here. We are just… worried. After all you did for us, how can we help you?”

Eivor shook his head as he bowed his head. “You can’t. I don’t know that anyone can.”

He could almost feel the glance that passed between the two men then Stowe said, “Stay another day or two. I don’t like to think of you out there like this.” He waited until Eivor raised his head again then smiled wryly before continuing. “I fear you would be far too reckless, and I have too few friends to risk losing one to his megrims.”

Eivor snorted, a thin thread of amusement burning briefly through his black mood at how well Stowe knew him after so short an acquaintance. 

“Aye, stay,” Erke said. “You’d end up skewered on some Saxon’s pike in the mood you’re in and I’m not putting up with this one if that happens.”

Eivor managed a small but genuine smile at that. “Very well. A day or two but then I must be away to Eurvicscire. I cannot shirk my duties to my Jarl and my people longer than that.”

Stowe looked relieved and Eivor felt a pang of… something he didn’t want to examine too much when he released his wrist. 

“You should get some more sleep,” Stowe said then he gave a grin that made Eivor’s breath catch and he almost missed what was said next. “You look like we’ve dragged you through half of Lunden by your ankles.”

“My head certainly felt like it when I woke,” Eivor replied, feeling that dark mood lift just a little.

“Well, we may have dropped you on the stairs once or twice,” Erke teased. “You’re heavier than I expected.”

Eivor gave a short laugh then levered himself to his feet. “On that note, I shall sound a strategic retreat and seek my bed.”

He turned back to the villa with Stowe and Erke’s laughter in his ears and damned himself for how he felt before he took that thought and locked it away. What he wanted twice over, he could not have and the sooner he accepted that, the better.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eurvicscire was full of betrayals and other such troubles but the time away turns out to be a good thing.

Eivor stood on the battlements high over Halfdan’s Roman castle and stared out, unseeing, at the spectacular view of the countryside. He felt weary and exhausted and Halfdan’s paranoia wasn’t improving things. He needed to go and find Moira and speak to her as he continued to navigate the waters here in Eurvicscire but he needed a few moments to gather himself up again. He briefly wished he was back in Lunden but quickly put that thought to the back of his mind. Thinking of Stowe and Erke and their easy camaraderie would not be helpful right now.

Part of him was tired of these endless petty tasks he needed to carry out to gain these alliances, but he knew they were necessary. Their place in this new land was still precarious and each alliance solidified their new home and gave the people of the Raven Clan more security. That was worthwhile, at least, even if the thought of home caused turmoil in his mind and heart.

He sighed and scrubbed his face with both hands before running them down and through his beard. He needed to let this go. He could not be caught up in thoughts of Sigurd out here. He needed to focus on what was important. 

He rolled his shoulders, settling his new armour. It felt strange not to be wearing his Raven Clan armour and he didn’t know if he would continue to wear the brigandine armour he’d found in his travels, but for now it was just a little comforting to wear something more… anonymous. Something that merely said he was a warrior, rather than something that marked him so clearly. A thin thread of something that felt like betrayal ran down his spine, but he snorted as he turned toward the stairs and started down. He was hardly betraying the clan by wearing new armour and he wasn’t being petty due to the argument that had come before he’d left. He just needed to shed at least some of the trappings of who he was for a while.

It had been pure chance that he’d had the armour with him anyway. He’d left Ravensthorpe in a hurry and had simply not unpacked anything. Stowe and Erke had been kind enough not to ask questions when he’d pulled the brigandine armour out of his pack and had instead simply promised to keep his Raven clan armour and many of his assorted bits and pieces safe for him. It was probably just his imagination talking but he liked to think they’d given him lingering glances in his new armour. Foolish of him but it was a nice thought and he needed such things right now.

He nodded to various soldiers as he passed through the castle in search of Moira. He’d be frustrated that he was thinking of the two Lundeners again, but he couldn’t seem to stop his mind from wandering in their direction, no matter how hard he tried. He’d damn near ridden into an ambush on his way here when he was lost in thoughts of the two men. Thankfully Cynbel had been more alert than him and they’d avoided the trouble. He’d have to tell Rowan a somewhat edited version of that. He’d be so pleased.

He distracted himself by getting some general directions to the herbalist’s house here in Donecaester then let his thoughts drift back in what was becoming a familiar direction again as he made his way through the town. The two days he’d spent in Lunden had been a balm to his bruised heart. Stowe and Erke had not asked any questions and had seemed to understand that whatever had happened had hurt and battered him in a way he wasn’t able or willing to speak about. 

He dragged his thoughts away from Lunden and back to Donecaester when he got to Moira’s house, only to find the woman wasn’t there. He sighed and set his mind firmly on his task. It looked like things were not going to be as easy as he’d hoped.

That proved to be an understatement and by the time, he’d unravelled the troubles and betrayals besetting Halfdan and Eurvicscire, he was exhausted. Normally, he would spend time, exploring the land for resources, troubles and treasures but not this time. Instead, he set his horse’s head firmly south but not towards Ravensthorpe, not just yet.

The trip went quickly and, for a change, in sunlight and some semblance of warmth. This land was not as cold as Norway, but neither was it overly warm. And it was far wetter. However, the rain stayed away as he rode down the old Roman road and the sun was lowering in the west when he finally passed through the gates of Lunden. The stablemaster took his horse with a hearty greeting, that Eivor returned, albeit somewhat absently, his thoughts already flying to a Roman villa and the two men he knew he would find within.

Or without, as it turned out. Just as when he’d come here before, Stowe and Erke were lounging at a table in the villa’s courtyard, drinking ale and passing the time while occasionally speaking to people who came in with news or some small grievance. Their faces lit up when they saw him walk in and Stowe leapt to his feet.

“Eivor! You’ve returned,” he said with a smile, waving him over. “I trust all went well in Eurvicscire?”

Eivor dropped onto the bench opposite the two men and accepted the tankard of ale from Erke with a grateful nod. “Aye. For a given definition of well anyway.”

“Is Halfdan well?” Erke asked, leaning forward slightly. He shrugged and smiled wryly. “I may have chosen Lunden but I will always be a Dane.”

Eivor sighed and took a long drink from his tankard. “Halfdan… is old. And feeling his age. He is also ill. Poisoning by lead, according to his healer, Moira.”

“Poisoned!” Erke said, indignant and angry, rising half to his feet.

Eivor waved him down. “The poisoner has been caught and is dead at Halfdan’s own hand. Halfdan is ill and weary and heartsore but still strong.”

Erke nodded slowly. “Good. I am glad to hear that. I will make offerings to Odin and Thor that he remain strong until he is taken to Odin’s hall.”

“And if he will have them, I shall make my own prayers for his continued health,” Stowe added quietly.

“I think he would not mind,” Eivor said with a small smile. “He has taken the throne in full now. No more Saxon puppet kings.”

Stowe and Erke both looked concerned and intrigued. “Truly?” Erke said. “He did not seem inclined to do that. What has changed?”

Eivor gave them the story of Faravid and Ricsige’s betrayals and the battles against the Picts and all else that had occurred.

“The Picts are wild,” Stowe said with a shake of his head. “Fierce warriors and proud of their people. Best left to their own devices, I say.”

“As long as they stay out of his lands, I think Halfdan would agree,” Eivor replied. “Mostly, anyway. He and his people are always up for a little sport if the Picts wish to come south again.”

Stowe chuckled then sobered. “So, what now for you, Eivor?”

A heaviness settled over Evior and he felt a weight press against his chest. “I must return to Randvi and let her know of my success. Then… there is a matter in Vinland I have left to linger for far too long.”

The words came without much thought, but he didn’t take them back. The trip to Vinland… getting away for that length of time… it would be good. He’d set it aside in favour of retrieving Sigurd but now… well, Sigurd was back. Of a sort. But he didn’t take it back, the trip would allow him to centre himself once again.

“Vinland?” Stowe said with an expression Eivor couldn’t decipher. “That is a long journey. Do you know the way?”

Eivor shook his head. “Not I but Randvi has a contact that can get me there. There is an… old friend there I need to take care of.”

“With the blade of your axe, I wager,” Erke said with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes,” Eivor said with a savage snarl. “A loose end that I should have tied off long ago, but Harald stayed my hand.”

“Who is this loose end?” Erke asked.

“Gorm Kyotvesson, son of the man who killed my father and mother,” Eivor replied. “I should have killed him back in Hordafylke.”

“How long will you be gone?” Stowe asked.

“I don’t know.” Eivor shrugged. “Two or three months, at least, I would say.”

Stowe nodded and exchanged a look with Erke that Eivor couldn’t decipher. “Then you must stay a few days,” the reeve said. “Since you will be gone so long.”

Duty warred with his own wants in Eivor’s mind then Erke refilled his tankard.

“Aye, stay,” Erke said and there was something in his tone that made Eivor cock his head curiously, like there was some underlying conversation in those two words that he wasn’t yet privy to.

He paused and looked to the north where Ravensthorpe lay then nodded. “Aye, I’ll stay. For a few days at least. There is no great rush to return.”

“Excellent,” Erke said with a grin and the conversation turned to Lunden, Eurvicscire and many places in between.

It was late when they finally fell into one of the natural silences that come after a good talk. Eivor shifted on the bench and propped one foot up on it as he drank. He wasn’t drunk this time, but he felt relaxed and just slightly tipsy. It was a good feeling. He could still fight if needed but he felt calm and quiet otherwise.

The courtyard was lit only by candles and torches now and as he watched, Erke rose to his feet and started extinguishing them. Lunden was quiet and still, something he’d rarely experienced in the bustling city.

He looked over at Stowe and found the man watching Erke. His expression was gentle and soft and Eivor felt that pang of… something. Perhaps jealousy. Or maybe longing would be a better word. Stowe turned to look at him and he wasn’t sure what was on his face but whatever it was made Stowe looked surprised, then pleased, before he turned back to watching Erke.

“At least we do not have to pour you into your bed tonight,” Stowe said, teasing obvious in his tone. “You are heavy. And stubborn. It was a monumental task.”

Eivor laughed. “I have been told that before. But I have no doubt you and Erke were up to the task.”

Stowe smiled. “We got you there in the end.” He tilted his head slightly. “You seem more at peace.”

Eivor looked down at his tankard and drained the last of the ale in it. “Do I? I don’t feel that way.”

Stowe watched him silently for a moment before looking away. “I won’t ask,” he said softly. “But if you should ever wish to speak of what lays so heavily on your mind, I will always listen. So will Erke, for that matter.”

“Thank you.” Eivor reached out and gripped Stowe’s forearm. Stowe placed a hand over his but before either of them could say anymore, Erke appeared behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Have we started then?” the Dane asked.

Eivor looked between the two of them, unable to determine their expressions in the dim light in the courtyard. “Started what?”

“Let’s take this inside,” Stowe said quietly.

Eivor found himself gently chivvied inside and was surprised when that meant being all but escorted to the rooms Stowe and Erke shared. They maintained the fiction that they lived separately, for the benefit of the people of Lunden, but the rooms Erke claimed were his were rarely used and mostly then for storage. Stowe’s room, on the other hand, showed clear signs of being inhabited by two people.

He dug his heels in once inside the room with the door closed behind them. “What are you two starting?”

Stowe and Erke exchanged glances then Eivor was startled to find himself thudding against the door with Stowe pressed against him. The man was stronger than he looked.

“This,” Stowe said before he leaned forward and kissed him.

Eivor was still for a moment, unable to entirely comprehend what was happening, that he appeared to be getting what he had wanted but thought he couldn’t have, then he felt Stowe start to withdraw. He growled and slid a hand around Stowe’s neck, drawing him back into the kiss and returning it with interest. He heard Erke’s low chuckle and felt the man’s arm slide around his waist.

“The little sparrow kisses well, doesn’t he?” Erke murmured into his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “I told him you were likely covered in tattoos under all that armour and fur. He wants to see them, you know.”

Eivor broke away from the kiss with a gasp. He looked at the two them, now pressed so intimately against him, and shook his head slightly.

“What is this?”

“I thought that would be obvious?” Erke said with a grin before Stowe cradled Eivor’s face with one hand.

“What you wanted,” Stowe said. “At least, that was what I thought?” 

Eivor stared at him then nodded. “Aye… aye, it is. But you…”

Stowe smiled gently. “Us, as well. We’ve always been happy together but you…” He shook his head and chuckled. “We’ve talked about this at length since you left for Eurvicscire. It’s not a hasty decision.”

“You weaselled your way into our lives and now we’re not letting you go,” Erke said, his grin widening. “So really, it’s your own fault.”

Eivor laughed at that and the mock-glare Stowe directed at Erke. “I can’t say I’m sorry then.”

“We’d have waited,” Stowe said. “Perhaps been more subtle but… with you heading off to Vinland…”

“We wanted to make sure you knew you’d better come back,” Erke added with a lascivious grin.

Eivor gripped the back of Stowe’s neck and knocked his head lightly against Erke’s. “I’ll be back. In one piece as well.” He didn’t have or perhaps didn’t know the words to express how he felt but they seemed to know anyway.

Erke shoved them both away from the door and towards the bed. “Come on, Wolf-Kissed. Stowe needs to see those tattoos of yours.”

Stowe blushed slightly but made no word of demurral or denial. Eivor just laughed and started pulling at his armour and clothes. The mess with Sigurd still weighed heavily on him but now there seemed to be some light in the darkness. Or at least a lightness in his chest that eased the ache in his heart somewhat.

“Well, if Stowe wants to see them, who am I to deny him?”


End file.
